


Fate/Turnabout

by Auste



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Death, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-02-15 21:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2243892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auste/pseuds/Auste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a universe where the Holy Grail War takes place in Japanifornia instead of Fuyuki City, three main magus families hold sway - the von Karmas, the Feys, and the Faradays. The von Karmas have won time and time again thanks to their Servant, Miles Edgeworth - known only as Saber. </p><p>With the Holy Grail within his reach, Manfred von Karma orders Edgeworth to execute two losing magi against his will. In a desperate bid to free himself of the von Karmas and atone for what he has done, Edgeworth makes a wish on the Grail. His wish comes true when, in the succeeding war, he is summoned by Kay Faraday to fight for her. Meanwhile, Kay runs into another Master, Maya Fey, and the two of them become friends before realizing that they may face each other on the battlefield.</p><p>Beta'd by Tellezara. Currently ongoing. Covers the PW trilogy and AAI1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

A new moon was over Los Angeles, and a frail haze hung in the air, seeping through the wreckage that was once a decent park in the middle of the city. Much of the grass had shriveled up and died, benches were overturned if not completely destroyed, and even trees had been uprooted. The trees that stood their ground were gnarled, broken, and stripped of all leaves and fruit. Flower bushes once colorful and full of life were reduced to ashes and dry branches. The only good thing about the destruction was that there were no casualties that day.

 

At least, no human casualties.

 

Yet.

 

Two men sat on their heels at the foot of a bridge that was half in and half out of a stream clogged with broken, scorched bits of wood, stray heaps of soil and a couple of crushed trash bins. There was nothing special about the men, not in the way they looked or dressed, but they were both grimy, exhausted, and most importantly, very, very afraid. They – a redhead wrapped in a worn cape, and a brunet with windswept chestnut hair and wide green eyes that matched his jacket – huddled together, shivering even though the night was warm. Archaic, bright red symbols that had blazed on the backs of their right hands were already fading away like old bruises, and around these men, sparkling red dust was being caught up in the haze, lazily drifting away from them.

 

They stared up at the third man who stood over them, the same glittery stuff sliding off the sword he held in his hand. Unlike them, his expression was stern and it was hard to tell if he felt pity, or disdain, or nothing at all for the poor dregs of humanity expecting their execution. He was clad in shimmering burgundy armor, and his sword was a rather large affair – a broadsword that belonged more in a museum than in a deplorable scene like this, with cross-guards like white rays of the sun trimmed with gold, and a ruby pommel. Gray curtains of hair framed his face, and a thin silver circlet rested on his head.

 

“Very good, Saber.”

 

A deep, imposing voice broke the eerie silence. The speaker had been standing some distance away, but now he walked toward the other three, a jeweled cane in one hand. This new arrival was old, with white hair slicked back from his face and an elaborate blue suit. Turquoise gems shone from atop his cane, from his earlobes, and from his white cravat. Unlike the men who shrank back from the armored man, Manfred von Karma was brimming with smugness, pride, and most importantly, triumph. He held his head high and regarded the two pitiful figures with a condescending smirk.

 

At the sight of him, Saber turned toward him, sheathed his sword, and bowed low, arms by his sides. His armor clinked faintly as he did so, and his face barely changed. This was routine for him, yet another day serving Manfred von Karma.

 

“Thank you, Master.”

 

“T-That Servant...he destroyed ours so easily...” The caped man managed to find his voice, and gulped as he watched them.

 

“I hope he doesn't destroy us next,” his companion whispered raggedly. As he spoke, he managed to get back onto his feet, swaying slightly. Then he reached out to help the caped one up.

 

“But,” Manfred said, silencing the two of them with a sneer, “my victory is not yet complete.” He gestured with his cane some distance away, in the middle of the park, where a flawlessly circular crater had obliterated much of the trees, benches, fences and even the duck pond. In the darkness, a human shape could be vaguely seen, a mere shadow outlined in the night. A woman's scream rang out as the figure doubled over and began to glow with a blinding golden light. The ensuing flash made everyone but Manfred shield their eyes, and the person was gone, replaced by a large ornate chalice pulsing with magical energy.

 

The two men stopped in their tracks, entranced by the arrival of the beautiful cup. They could only breathe three words with reverence.

 

“The Holy Grail...”

 

Only too late did they realize the mistake of pausing instead of leaving the scene completely. They cried out, much like the woman who had become the Grail, as the ground beneath their feet began to crystallize, becoming transparent and trails of gemstones erupted forth to twine around their legs, immobilizing them on the spot. The crystals formed a single curve that began from where Manfred's cane touched the ground. His smile was sinister, and his features flickered with shadows as the Grail provided a dazzling backdrop. He wagged a finger at the hapless magi, as if scolding them for not expecting this.

 

The men struggled and blasted at the crystals that anchored them, but their magic – sparks and flames and blades made of vivid light – simply glanced off, ricocheting into the night, missing Manfred and Saber. Saber glanced uncertainly at his Master.

 

“Master, the Grail is yours; what would you - “

 

“Kill them.”

 

Saber stepped back, his face twisting in revulsion and confusion. “Wh-what?!”

 

“You heard me – kill them,” he repeated, with a snap of his fingers. “Only then will my victory be perfect.” Manfred's tone was steely, unmovable. His captives were seized with panic and began desperately pulling themselves out, hammering at the crystals with jets of fire and light from their fingers. Saber watched them helplessly as though he were trapped with them, but tried to speak calmly.

 

“Surely you've already succeeded perfectly...the Grail is in your hands...”

 

“Not with these weak fools still walking the earth. They do not deserve the title of 'magus'.” Manfred's words cut through the air and the men howled in desperation, now beating the crystals crawling up to their waists with their hands till their fingers were bruised and bloody. “They hardly deserve to even _look_ at the Grail, the most powerful artifact known to man.” His lips curled with disgust and he regarded the men with a haughty look.

 

Saber took several deep breaths, his gaze flicking from the prisoners to the old magus and back. The two lesser magi gave the man in armor pleading looks. His gauntleted hand found his sword, but he did not draw it.

 

Manfred narrowed his eyes dangerously. He raised his right hand so his palm faced him. On the back of his hand were etched three red runes made to look like a diamond-shaped gemstone with four facets.

 

“As your Master, I command you to finish them!” He snapped his fingers once again, one of the Command Seals disappeared, and Saber's face contorted in horror as his arm began to move of its own accord, pulling his blade out from its scabbard. Desperately he attempted to shove it back inside, but eventually it was free, shining with the light of the Grail. Saber tensed as excruciating pain lanced through his limbs, and his feet began to move toward the trapped magi even as he planted them as firmly onto the ground as possible. He couldn't even unclench his sword hand to drop his weapon, but could only watch in horror as his other hand grasped the hilt as well.

 

“No! Master - “ He gritted his teeth in agony, the searing sensation ripping through him as if he had been doused in boiling oil. All the other Servants – Rider, Archer, Berserker, Lancer, Caster, Assassin – they had already been killed. Surely the Holy Grail was now within the reach of the Master he served...surely he did not need to murder two magi who had already lost anyway...

 

“Pathetic, sentimental fool,” Manfred growled, impatience flaring as Saber continued to resist. “Kill them now!”

 

Like a puppet on strings, Saber cried out as he marched forward, sword raised high. The magi screamed too, leaning as far back as they possibly could, yet knowing that it would be futile. The last thing they saw was Saber's mortified expression before their worlds went black forever.

 

When the deed was done, Saber dropped to his knees, the terrible pain suddenly lifted from him and leaving him exhausted, like someone who had been abruptly relieved of a heavy weight collapsing to the ground. His sword clattered beside him, and he just knelt beside the mound of crystal surrounding two headless corpses. When he opened his mouth, not a sound came out. He looked down at his hands and his armor, splattered with blood, unable to avert his eyes from the sight.

 

Two of the runes on Manfred's hands had faded into the faintest of marks, but he took no notice of that, or of his Servant numb from shock. Instead, he looked upon Saber with disdain and walked on toward the Holy Grail, still glowing and still majestic, a silent audience to this grisly encounter. When Saber glanced over his shoulder at his Master approaching the Grail, he finally regained all of his senses, numbness giving way to outrage, and moved toward him with a surprising burst of speed from someone wearing armor. He hooked his foot around Manfred's ankle and sent the magus toppling onto the ground, his cane rolling away.

 

“Saber!” he bellowed.

 

Never had Saber been so thankful for his unmatched Servant skills and power. Without so much as a glance at Manfred sprawled on the ground, trying to get back up, he focused on the Grail waiting for him like a beacon of hope. For a long time, the von Karmas had always won the Grail. Now, he would see for himself if this artifact could truly grant any wish.

 

Saber reached out and touched the chalice, closing his eyes and concentrating on his wish. _I wish to be free of the von Karmas. I want to atone for this...this sin I have committed._ In his mind, he could see the pleading faces of the magi he had slain against his will. _I want to turn it all around! Free me from this curse!_

 

“No! ” Manfred screamed, slamming his fist onto a pitiful blackened patch of grass as the Grail began to shine brighter and brighter, and Saber kept his hold on it, thinking of breaking away from this accursed magus family, thinking of no longer serving them, no longer bringing them victories in every Holy Grail War. “Saber, you fool, let go of the Grail!”

 

But Saber did not let go. Neither did he care that Manfred continued to rage as his cane remained sadly out of reach, or that the old magus called him a fool. Dazzling light, like a supernova, engulfed the Grail and the Servant, and in the blink of an eye, the light, the cup, and the man in armor were gone, leaving Manfred with only his cane and the devastated park. All was still.

 

Then the stillness was pierced by a roar of pure anger that echoed through the night.

 


	2. The New Student

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years later, Maya is a new student at Kay's school, and each is unaware of the other's true identity - that of a Master in the upcoming Holy Grail War. Franziska von Karma will take up the cudgels for her father.

The new girl stood in front of the class, hands clasped together. Her eyes shone with delight as she smiled at the other students, many of whom were either bored, just waiting for school to end, or both. Some of her long black hair was gathered into a topknot on her head, or in purple baubles. Her uniform was freshly pressed, without old stains, tears, or folds. 

The teacher, a middle-aged and somewhat plump woman with gray hair pulled back into a very tight bun, beamed as she placed a hand on the girl's shoulder.

“Everyone, we have a new student in class. Her name is Ayam Mystique, and she just moved here from San Francisco.” 

“Hi, nice to meet you all! Even though I'll technically only really meet you after class...” Ayam shrugged, and let out a chuckle. “And it's nice to meet you too, Mrs. Sensei...”

More than a few students perked up with interest and eagerly whispered to each other. The others glanced up for all of a second before slumping in their chairs again, or returning to their usual dazed looks. Mrs. Sensei glossed over them as she scanned the room for an empty chair before her gaze rested upon another black-haired girl sitting beside a vacant spot and doodling in her notebook. She wore a golden key – or perhaps it was a large hairpin shaped like a key – in her high ponytail.

“You'll sit there beside Raven,” she said, gesturing to the place. Then she raised her voice slightly, to be heard – and to get the doodling student's attention. “Be nice to her.”

Ayam did not seem bothered by the fact that her new seatmate was still doodling, although the latter stopped as Ayam finally sat down and deposited her backpack gingerly beside her – a gray backpack that would have been more apropos in an elementary school setting, emblazoned with the Steel Samurai and proclaiming the title of the series in bold red letters on the front. Raven peered at it curiously while Mrs. Sensei began to write something on the blackboard and the other students continued whispering and looking at Ayam's general direction. Ayam didn't seem to notice or care, and paid more attention to Raven's curiosity toward the backpack.

“You like the Steel Samurai too?” There was a note of excitement in her voice, more pronounced than when she had introduced herself. 

Raven twirled her pink pen. “I like him, yeah, but the Jammin' Ninja's way better.”

Ayam goggled at her and clapped a hand to her mouth. “Are you saying the Jammin' Ninja is cooler than the Steel Samurai, Hero of Neo Olde Tokyo, the hero who started it all?”

“Well, the Jammin' Ninja sings, for one thing. And has his own albums!” Raven quickly dropped her voice when Mrs. Sensei glanced over her shoulder in the middle of writing some complicated algebra equations. A boy near the front of the class groaned; it was hard to tell if he was groaning at Raven, or at the equations.

“The Steel Samurai sings too!”

“Yeah, but only in the musical. He doesn't sing all the time, in every episode.”

“The Steel Samurai doesn't need to sing to be cool! He just has to swing his Samurai Spear – Early Summer Rain Jab!” Ayam made a little thrusting movement with her own pen, which looked like a little spear. When Mrs. Sensei glanced at them again, Ayam promptly put down her pen and smiled sheepishly, silent until the teacher resumed filling the board with math.

Ayam made a face. “Ugh. Algebra.”

“I know,” Raven agreed. The two of them stifled their giggles. “Well, at least that's one thing we can agree on.”

* * *

“So your name is Raven, huh?” Ayam swung her legs to and fro beneath her bench as she eagerly unwrapped a burger from her backpack. The day was fair and sunny enough for them to take a table outside instead of taking their chances inside the cafeteria. Besides, they had both brought their own lunches and so were spared the trouble of having to fall in line for the mystery meat special – which was a mystery best left unsolved.

“Raven Locke, that's me. But your name's really cool – Ayam Mystique. If you say it slowly, it sounds like, 'I am mystique'. Or 'I am mystic'.”

Ayam laughed, shrugging. “I get that a lot. It's almost like I'm a superhero with a secret identity!” 

Raven joined her laughter before asking, “What does 'Ayam' mean, though?” She peered into her Jammin' Ninja lunchbox. “It does sound like a mystic name.”

“I dunno. It's not Japanese or Chinese, for sure.” Ayam took a big bite of her burger while Raven dug out a BLT sandwich, a bag of nuts, and a chocolate bar. “Maybe I'll look it up.”

“I kinda wish I had a more exotic name,” Raven said, taking a sip from her thermos, which was decorated with little red guitars. “I like being Raven, but it wouldn't hurt to have a second name that will make everything cooler. Something mysterious. Something you can't just find in a dictionary.” She put down her thermos and popped a peanut into her mouth. For a while, the two of them continued to eat, but it did not take long for them to resume their conversation. 

“This reminds me of the episode where Sakura-san told the Steel Samurai that after helping him defeat the Dastardly Daimyo, she would change her name into something as cool as his, because there were so many other Sakuras in her village,” Ayam pointed out, crumpling up the burger wrapper and reaching for a bottle of iced tea.

Raven brightened up. “Hey, I remember that! It was one of my favorite episodes!”

“I thought you were into the Jammin' Ninja.”

“Well, I am, but I like the Steel Samurai too, remember?”

“You can't just like him, you have to love him! Be a true fan!” Ayam pumped her fist into the air. “I'm gonna make a Steel Samurai fan out of you!”

At that, Raven just stared at her, but then she clapped her hands in delight. “Sounds like you're gonna fit right in with the MEGA Club, then!”

“MEGA Club?”

“Manga, Entertainment, Games and Anime Club. We have a meeting after school, and all you have to do is - ”

“Oh...sorry, I can't.” The new girl sighed, lowering her head and flicking the rumpled wrapper so it skittered to the other end of the table. “I'd love to, but...I have to go home right away. There's something I have to do.”

Raven frowned in disappointment, but it did not take long for her to try and smile again. “Maybe...some other time? I think you'd have fun!”

“I'll try,” said Ayam, the corners of her mouth moving up hopefully. “Don't worry, Raven. Before you know it, I'll be in your club and we can marathon the Steel Samurai on weekends.”

“Only if we have Jammin' Ninja marathons too.”

Ayam thought for a moment, her brows furrowing, then nodded. “You drive a hard bargain...but I'll take it. Deal.” They shook hands, and in no time at all they were giggling and chatting again.

* * *

“I'm home,” Ayam called, leaving her shoes outside the house. Gently she slid the door open and walked into the main hall, dragging her backpack along.

“Mystic Maya!”

A little girl with light brown hair ran toward her and embraced her. Ayam – or rather, Maya – chuckled as she returned the hug. “Pearly!”

“How was your first day of school?” Pearl asked cheerfully, finally letting go of Maya.

“It was great! I met this really cool girl named Raven, and she invited me to join her club...and one day I'll invite her over to my apartment so we can watch the Steel Samurai!” Maya beamed, excited about the prospect of another Steel Samurai convert. Maybe she could even get Raven to like him more than the Jammin' Ninja. 

“Can I come over too, Mystic Maya? I want to see your apartment!” Maya's excitement was contagious; Pearl was bouncing up and down with joy. 

“Of course! There's always room for you, Pearly!”

“Just remember why you're in school in the first place, Mystic Maya.” The speaker was a woman in a black kimono. Her tone dripped with enough authority to catch the girls' attention without raising her voice. She held a cup of steaming tea in one hand as she regarded Pearl first, and Maya next.

Maya nodded quickly, her mood hardly changing. “I know, Aunt Morgan. But it's still a lot of fun pretending to be a student and everything.”

“Maintaining a front for the Holy Grail War is not supposed to be fun,” Morgan pointed out after a sip of her tea. “And Mystic Pearl, I believe it is time to continue your training, if you are to help protect Mystic Maya during the war.”

Pearl raised a hand to her mouth and gasped. “Ah, yes, of course! I'll do my best, Mother!” She drew herself up to full height, smiling proudly. Then she trotted off down the hallway and disappeared, leaving Maya and Morgan behind. 

A moment passed in which the woman stared down at Maya as though she were a difficult puzzle to solve, and the girl looked back up at her in askance. Then Morgan gestured for Maya to follow the same hallway Pearl had taken, except that they continued until they reached the end – a wall covered by a tapestry depicting a woman wearing a hooded robe and a magatama around her neck. In her hands was a silver chalice, a wispy spirit rising up from the rim. Morgan placed her palm against the faint outline of a hand traced upon the chalice, and the wall swung inward to reveal a set of dim stairs.

“It's time,” Morgan said as she walked down the steps, raising the hem of her robe a little lest she tread upon it. Her wooden sandals made a low clomping staccato. “You are sure that you wish to summon him?”

“Yes.” The girl set her jaw.

“He was Mystic Mia's Servant, was he not? And your sister...met her unfortunate end while fighting alongside him in the previous war.” The words hung in the air, adding tension to the musty atmosphere. Maya said nothing, but clenched her fists and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. “You are lucky to have Mystic Pearl to fight with you.”

“Are you sure she's ready?” asked Maya uncertainly as they reached the bottom. 

Morgan raised her hand, and the torches mounted on the walls flared into life. But instead of burning with bright yellow, orange and red flames, they illuminated the stone chamber with an eerie purple light. Carved on the floor, in shiny green strokes and lines, was a large circle with runes shaped like a spiky magatama. Flourishing rays extended outward from the magatama. Various magical weapons, from gnarled wooden staffs to polished ivory wands and even what looked like a titanium pistol were mounted on one wall, while another was a large stained glass mural of three people – the same hooded woman on the door to the staircase, this time sharing company with a long-haired brunet man with a crow on his shoulder, and an old man stroking his white beard while clutching a jeweled staff. 

“Of course. Her training is almost complete.” Morgan seemed unfazed by the prospect of an eight-year-old joining the war. “Do not underestimate Mystic Pearl's power.”

Maya walked toward the wall full of weapons, stepping around the green circle, which seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly glow by the light of the torches. She pulled a wand that looked like an arm broken off from a limestone statue, and it opened a secret panel, which contained a tarnished red spear point. Small wings sprouted from its sides, making it look like a cheap bird toy. Maya stared at the object in her palm and let her fingers close around it gently before returning to Morgan's side.

Morgan gave her a simple nod, and continued drinking her tea as if she were watching a movie instead of an important summoning ritual. Once the spear point was laid at the center of the circle, Maya knelt in front of it, clasped her hands together and began her chant. 

“With emerald I shape your form, with my magic I give you power, with my blood I call your name. I, Maya Fey of the Fey clan, do hereby summon thee to be my spear, to serve me and my family. Now, answer my call, and come forth!”

With every word she spoke, the circle began to glow, overpowering the purple torches until the chamber was bathed in verdant light. When Maya finished her incantation, the light blazed so brightly that she was momentarily blinded, and fell onto the ground from her sitting position. Morgan remained standing, hardly fazed and not noticing that Maya was now sitting on her bottom, agape. 

The light faded away and revealed a man wearing a blue vest over a white shirt with rather puffy sleeves, blue breeches that stopped at his knees, white stockings, and black buckled shoes. On his head was a blue hat with a red feather in it, and in his hand was a ruby-red spear with a foot-long blade. A phoenix with wings spread wide adorned the blade. He took his hat off, revealing spiky black hair, and gave a sweeping bow, gazing intently at Maya, who was still speechless.

“I ask you...are you my Master?”

* * *

Instead of walking home to her house, Raven took a detour and approached an old church made of pitch-black stone. It was eerily silent, with no bells ringing or churchgoers who managed to make noise while shushing fellow churchgoers. But the windows were alight, and that was why she walked up to the oaken double doors. Standing in front of them, she declared, “I request sanctuary within the Holy Church.”

The doors opened slowly, leaving just enough space for a teenage girl to enter. She stepped inside, her footsteps on the thin carpet echoing all around the structure. Candles flickered to life as she walked down the aisle between the pews, but she did not seem bothered by this phenomenon. As she drew closer to the altar, a man in a black cassock came into view. He had graying hair and what looked like a cigarette hanging from his mouth. His expression was serious, but it softened at the sight of the girl, who greeted him with a smile and a hug.

“Uncle Badd!”

“Kay.” He patted her on the back gently while she clung to him, and waited for her to break away, still grinning. “How was school?”

“Oh, it was great!” said Kay. “There's this new girl in school named Ayam, and I'm gonna get her into the MEGA Club! She prefers the Steel Samurai over the Jammin' Ninja, but that's okay. Maybe I could show her what the Jammin' Ninja is really capable of!”

The corners of Badd's mouth moved up slightly, for about a second, before he took the white stick from his mouth. The stick turned out to be attached to a pink piece of candy – a lollipop. 

“The war...may begin soon,” he said gravely. “You haven't summoned a Servant.”

Kay frowned, as if Badd's mood were contagious, and sighed. “I haven't found a historical artifact that could be used. I even tracked eBay.” The look in her green eyes was sadder now, and she looked down at her shoes. Her voice was a pained whisper. “If I don't have one...there's a chance I could end up with the Servant who killed Daddy.”

“I know,” the man said. The candles burned lower. “And I don't want you anywhere around her. Unfortunately...my own search turned up nothing.”

“It's like the good artifacts have already been taken. But I'm sure there's still something out there, right?”

“That may be the case...there are more magus families nowadays, after all. Back then, it was just the Feys, the von Karmas...and your family, the Faradays. The three main families. Some people have even attempted to learn magic...on their own.” 

Kay gazed out the window, where she had a good view of the full moon. “Do you think we haven't been looking hard enough, Uncle Badd?”

Badd paced the dais where the altar had been erected, deep in thought. “...Perhaps. And perhaps you should go home, for now. Be careful.”

* * *

“Be careful,” an old man's snobbish tone spoke. “The summoning circle must be perfect.” 

Manfred von Karma leaned on his cane, the jewel atop it glinting in the light from two chandeliers overhead. The large windows were framed by sky blue curtains with golden cords, and the marble floor was polished to a bright shine. What looked like molten gold traced its way into a network of archaic runes encased in a diamond shape, which was circumscribed by a gleaming circle. The gold was directed by a young woman with short blue hair and the same haughty aura as Manfred, as she drew the same design in front of her with a wand that looked like it was made entirely from lapis lazuli. She merely nodded, concentrating on completing her circle as her father scrutinized each stroke she made, and once it was finished, the pattern before her eyes vanished into a cloud of sparkling dust. The dust was absorbed by the golden lines on the floor, which flickered with light before becoming quiescent once more.

She spread her arms wide and curtsied. “But of course, Papa,” was the reply. “A von Karma is perfect in every way, especially in the realm of magecraft.”

Manfred examined the golden tracery upon the floor, pacing around it, before nodding his approval. “Well done, Franziska. I expected nothing less. Now, there is one last thing we need.” He turned on his heel and strode toward the door purposefully, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“The artifact...to summon Saber,” Franziska said, following her father out of the hall. The door closed automatically behind them, and a click told them that it had locked itself. They walked past a few maidservants who had been dusting the portraits of past von Karma magi, forbidding statues of stern old men in various stages of their twilight years, and various knickknacks placed on display in the corridors of the manor. They stopped at a large door with a brass nameplate that read, “Manfred von Karma” in block letters and a polished door knocker made to look like a roaring lion with an overlarge nose ring. There was no knob; Manfred took the ring of the knocker and knocked on the door three times. The knocker roared and glowed brightly, and the door swung open. 

Franziska allowed her father to enter first, and watched him cross the room, past his desk and a life-size painting of himself that hung on the wall. When he halted in front of locked shelves with magical artifacts, he took out a key from his pocket and inserted it into a small slot at the side of the farthest shelf. With a rough, rumbling sound, it slid to the right, creating a gap of wall between it and another shelf. Manfred placed his palm onto this section of wall, and four white lines lit up in a square before the door of a concealed safe opened inward.

Both of them gasped. Manfred growled and slammed his fist against the wall before thrusting a hand into the safe and pulling out the item inside. Franziska's eyes blazed with fury as she peered angrily into the safe, wondering if this was a trick. But try as the von Karmas might, they found nothing to suggest that someone was simply playing a prank on them, or that they had not inspected the safe closely. 

Manfred's private study was private for a reason. After all, it was where he kept the artifact that generation after generation had used to call upon the strongest Servant to fight for them in the Holy Grail War.

Now, the only contents of the hidden safe was a white card emblazoned with a black three-legged crow.


	3. Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edgeworth's wish is finally realized - but he isn't the only one realizing something.

“Fill, fill, fill...”

While muttering under her breath, Kay poured a bottle of black ink onto the floor of her bedroom. As the liquid flowed, it automatically split into two tributaries – one that would continue a large circle, and another that would form the runes, lines, and arcane words within. The ink seemed to dry unnaturally quickly, and the patterns on the floor began to look more like they were made by a permanent marker. Most of the furniture had been pushed to one side, the windows were closed, and the pink drapes were shut. The only light guiding her tonight came from two flashlights – one beside her, and the other perched on the edge of her chair, which in turn was placed on top of her desk to maximize the use of her floor. 

When she was done, she stood up and examined her handiwork before cramming the empty bottle into a trash bin already overflowing with empty ink bottles. Kay then pulled out an old, dusty volume from the bookshelf, the only piece of furniture that wasn't moved. While she shone a flashlight over a page marked by a threadbare navy blue ribbon, someone knocked on her door.

“It's me.”

Badd opened the door and stepped inside without waiting for an acknowledgment, stopping short of the black lines. In his hand was a long, gilded velvet box.

“Hi, Uncle Badd!” Kay greeted him. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the box, and she pointed her flashlight at it. But before she could ask about it, Badd spoke while scrutinizing her circle.

“You didn't use...the traditional summoning circle under your living room rug.”

“I'm not taking any chances,” she replied solemnly.

“You could have saved yourself a lot of trouble,” said Badd. He opened the box and drew a length of worn, dirty white cloth. 

Kay gasped, dropping her flashlight. “But...but I thought...”

The faintest hint of a smile played on Badd's lips. “...So did I.” He knelt beside the circle, and stretched his arm out to place the cloth into the middle of the circle. 

“Where did you...”

“The...Yatagarasu...gave me a tip.”

Kay's green eyes were wide with astonishment. “The Great Thief? Did you see what he – or she – looks like?”

Badd shook his head. “The artifact was left with me, along with the calling card...no spells, no traps. I checked.”

She rested her right elbow in her left hand, and her chin on her right fist. This was a new development, not necessarily unwelcome, but certainly intriguing.

“So...where do you think the Yatagarasu got it?”

Badd chose to examine his reflection in Kay's bedroom mirror. “...That...is a very good question.” He turned his attention back to her. “Maybe we'll find out.”

At first, the girl was speechless. But in no time at all her face lit up with excitement. “Well, in any case, thank you, Yatagarasu! Keep being noble!” She shut her book with a loud, sharp snap. After putting it away, Kay rolled up her sleeves, and extended her hands over the circle. The black lines seemed to become fuller, more fluid...as if returning to their liquid form. Then they started to shimmer, lighting up the bedroom. 

“O great Servant of old, join forces with me, and fight for the Holy Grail!” she declared, a wind whipping out from the center and blowing all around the room – which was particularly odd, as the window was closed and the drapes drawn over it to block out the nightly bustle of the city outside. Papers flew from her desk, and a few Jammin' Ninja figurines fell from their stands. “Take spirit form, walk this earth, and fight! I am Kay Faraday, and I am your Master!”

Beams of light shot forth from the circle, and it was as if day had broken in her bedroom alone. She shaded her eyes from the glow, and Badd stood by, stoic as ever, barely budging. With a final flash that left spots dancing in her sight, the figure of a man appeared in the middle of the circle, and her surroundings were dark once more, save for the two flashlights.

For a moment, Kay was frozen where she was, staring at her new bedroom guest. It took her a while to realize that she could get a better look at her Servant with some real light. She raised a fist and opened her fingers slowly, lighting her room up with a simple, wordless spell.

There was Badd, also gazing at the Servant, almost scrutinizing him. And more importantly, there was the Servant...a tall, solidly built man with broad shoulders, and eyes and hair that were the color of storm clouds...or perhaps, burnished steel. He wore a silver circlet on his head, and from the neck down, was clad in burgundy armor. His hands rested upon a majestic broadsword.

Kay opened her mouth to speak and break the spell of awe that had washed over her (and Badd as well, probably), but before she could say anything, the Servant knelt on one knee, a hand still on the hilt of his sword. 

“I, Saber, have answered your summons. Tell me, are you...my Master?”

“S-Saber...?” 

For a moment, that was all she could manage. She had just summoned the best of the three knight classes...not to mention the strongest Servant class overall. And if her recollection of her studies on the Holy Grail Wars was correct, he was the von Karmas' greatest weapon. Wait, would he remember that too? Would he turn against her if they ever encountered his old masters in battle? Then this meant that the Yatagarasu had managed to break into the von Karmas' place, wherever that was, and steal this artifact, and give it to Badd...

Badd met her eyes and nodded once, prompting her to answer properly. Kay looked down at Saber, who was still kneeling, and added, “Yes. I'm Kay Faraday...of the Faraday clan.”

“...I see.” His expression was inscrutable. Was he merely thoughtful, or was he gauging her ability as a magus? “Then, my sword and I are at your service, Master.” The man in armor stood up and slid his weapon back into its scabbard, creating a smooth, steel note that ended in a punctuated metallic sound echoing throughout the room.

“W-wait,” Kay started, her mouth suddenly dry. She twiddled her fingers. “Um...that's all? You're really going to be my Servant in this war?”

There was a brief glint of longing, of melancholy, in Saber's eyes as he stepped out of the circle and approached her. 

“We made a contract, did we not? I give you my word that I will bring you victory. I do not believe that our contract was an accident.”

Badd cleared his throat. “But of course, some Servants are summoned by accident...”

* * *

The door to the cellar was ajar. A yellow tabby cat easily squeezed through the gap, descended the stairs, and knew where among the wine bottles his owner was. Of course, it helped that the lights had been switched on, and the cat could easily hear the footsteps of the only other living being in this place. He meowed to announce his arrival, and was rewarded by a gentle hand that stroked him from the top of his head all the way to his tail.

“Hey, Shoe. Sorry I'm taking so long, but it's so hard to pick out something to celebrate the Nickel Samurai's victory over the Jammin' Ninja.”

The man who straightened up from giving his cat a good petting had brown hair that covered one of his eyes, and wore a bright red and white jacket. “I dunno...I really feel like it's a wine night.” Shoe wasn't paying attention to his master's comments. Instead, he was sniffing at some faint lines and curves traced into the cellar floor. They were partly obscured by dust and were fading with time, but were instantly apparent upon a closer look.

“I mean, waaaay more people watched the first Nickel Samurai movie than the first Jammin' Ninja movie. I topped the box office in my first week! Hah, take that, Corrida!”

He pulled out a green bottle, opened it, and took a swig. Then he raised the bottle in the air as if toasting invisible guests.

“Score one more for Matt Engarde!”

A few stray drops of wine fell onto the dusty lines that resembled the chord of a large circle. However, he didn't notice the drops, let alone the way they began tracing the lines, guided by an invisible force. 

Suddenly the floor under them rumbled. 

“What the...?!” Matt dropped the bottle in shock, and the glass shattered, spilling even more wine onto the lines. They seemed to be drinking in the liquid, because it seeped into the patterns and made them take on a burgundy tinge. 

He scooped Shoe up, backed away from the strange sight, and sprinted up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time as the earth raged on and gave vent to its anger. Shoe yowled, and Matt cried out as he kicked the cellar door shut. But as he did so, he noticed yet another strange thing.

The floor was not shaking. Or at least, it wasn't, anymore.

“Maybe it was just a really short - “

Red light blazed, a shining rectangle around the closed cellar door. He shaded his eyes, and Shoe leaped from his grasp to skitter under the couch. Time seemed to stand still as he remained frozen in his position, bracing himself for what would come next. Did the special effects crew decide to throw a surprise party in his cellar, or was the world going crazy?

Finally, he lifted his hand from his eyes. The door and his surroundings had returned to normal, and Shoe cautiously peeked out from his hiding place.

That was when the door opened, and a blur of shadow oozed out from the cellar like smoke from a rapidly burning fire. But this was too thick, resembling ink more than smoke. Matt yelped, took several steps back, and nearly tripped over a table. He shielded his face with his arms...

“Tell me, are you my Master?”

Matt lowered his arms at the careful, curt voice of a second man. This newcomer was completely shrouded in a black velvet cloak – completely black, except for the faint and occasional shine and swirl, like a section of the night sky torn from the heavens. His face was unfathomable, and the stitches vertically bisecting it together with the monocle over one eye did little to decode his expression. If anything, they made him look menacing in a quiet sort of way.

“Your...Master?”

“Yes,” the black-clad man said, approaching carefully. “I am the Servant Assassin, who you summoned to fight for you in the Holy Grail War.”

“Servant...Assassin...?” 

The words trailed off and hung in the air. Shoe did not leave the underside of the couch. Assassin's expression remained unchanged, until he shrugged and sighed. It was hard to tell if he was sighing in resignation, exasperation, both, or none of the above.

“Have you heard of the Holy Grail War, sir?”

A shake of the head was all he received as an answer.

“I see. Well, that complicates matters, but this is nothing to worry about. The Holy Grail War is fought among seven magi, each of whom has their own Servant. The winner receives the Grail, a wondrous artifact that is said to grant any wish.”

At first, Matt looked at Assassin as if the latter was spouting fantasy nonsense. Wish-granting artifacts? A war among magi? 

“Uh...o-okay, dude...did you take any bottles from my - “

Assassin drew a small obsidian knife from his flowing sleeve, and in one fluid, swift motion, threw it into the eye of a portrait of his new Master on the wall. Suddenly, he faded into a thin dark mist that disappeared completely...and then he was behind Matt, holding up a knife similar to the first one he had produced. Luckily, he did not place it anywhere near Matt's body – although he was in the perfect position to do so.

“J-J-Just kidding!” Matt gasped, trembling. “Okay, so you're serious...you're seriously an assassin?”

“Not just any assassin,” The Servant slid away so they were conversing face-to-face again. “I am the Servant Assassin. A Servant is - “

Matt was still rooted to the spot, too fearful to move lest the mysterious Assassin move along with him – and possibly try newer, deadlier tricks on him. And yet, he had heard every word Assassin spoke. He saw the man's expertise for himself. Even if the Holy Grail thing turned out to be nothing but a story, this man was dangerous, quick on his feet, a real assassin like no other. He would be extremely useful. If the story turned out to be true...well, it wouldn't hurt to find this wish-granting artifact and see if it really worked.

Besides, it was probably not a good idea to split hairs with a man who had just poked your portrait's eye out, and who could easily do the same to you.

“You know what? We should really sit down, have a drink, and you can start from the beginning.” Matt was about to throw his arm around Assassin's shoulder, then decided to just extend his hand toward the other man for a handshake. He put on his most winning smile. “Actually, let's start with the Holy Grail itself. It can grant any wish? Seriously?”

* * *

The middle-aged, reed-thin teacher droned on and on about the Renaissance and the French Revolution, but Kay paid his monotonous voice no attention. Ever since she arrived in school this morning after persuading Saber that she would be fine on her own, something seemed off about the atmosphere – a disturbance of sorts, an imbalance. And it was especially noticeable when her friend Ayam was around.

She glanced at the other girl beside her. At first Ayam looked as if she was really taking notes, but when Kay dared to lean in a bit closer, she saw doodles of the Steel Samurai and his trusty weapons, and a large burger. Ayam turned to regard Kay, stared straight ahead at the teacher for a while, then shrugged as if to say that if Kay wanted help on the lesson, Ayam was probably not the best person to ask. 

But before she decided to focus on the lesson at hand, Kay observed that Ayam's sleeves were pulled down over her hands. Kay let out a dismayed sigh, and furtively slipped her own hand into her skirt pocket before realizing that she needed that hand to write.

The minutes ticked by and the lesson inched on until the teacher, throwing his hands up in exasperation at his inattentive class (several balls of paper had been chucked around, a few students had fallen asleep, and others were on the verge of following suit), dismissed the class a good ten minutes before the final bell. The relief and thrill of another school day ending briefly drove Kay's concerns from her mind as she walked to the MEGA club room. Unfortunately, a notice had been tacked onto the cork board. The day's meeting had been rescheduled to next week. 

The odd feeling she sensed around the other girl occupied Kay's thoughts once more. She raised her right hand and stroked her chin as she read the rest of the notice. Apparently the president had come down with a bad case of the flu...

“Aha!”

Ayam burst out from behind the lockers next to the club room, pointing a finger at Kay. 

“A-Ayam?” Kay gasped, nearly jumping out of her skin and clapping a hand to her mouth – which turned out to be a big mistake.

“I knew it!” Ayam declared. Her pointer finger was an inch away from Kay's chest. “I knew something was up!”

“T-The club meeting was just canceled! We'll...we could just meet next...”

“I'm not talking about that!” Ayam grabbed Kay's hand before the latter could stow it back into her pocket, examining the bright red marks on it, arranged in the shape of a blade with wings for cross-guards. She stared at them in disbelief bordering on outrage. “I'm talking about this! Raven, you never told me!”

“Told you what?” Deep down, Kay knew no amount of acting would save her now.

“That you're a Master!”

“A Master of what?”

“Don't play dumb, you know exactly what these are!” 

Kay did know exactly what Command Seals were, and three of them were on the back of her right hand. And if her hunch and her senses were correct...

She quickly reached out for Ayam's wrist this time, and pulled back the sleeve from the back of her hand to reveal three Command Seals, this time in a magatama formation. Ayam tried to twist away, but it was too late. 

“Yeah...I know exactly what these are,” said Kay slowly, letting go of Ayam. The two of them stood there, staring at each other intently, as if trying to draw out more information beyond the fact that both of them had Command Seals – marking them both as Masters of the Holy Grail War.

Only one Master could win the Grail. If one girl could win the Grail, the other would most certainly lose.

* * *

“My last Master was a sniveling fool who died in the end. Don't disappoint me, Iris.” The redheaded woman tossed her long hair haughtily and turned away briefly to examine her long, ornate crystal staff. The staff was topped by an ivory butterfly within a glass sphere, and a flowering vine was carved to twist around and down its entire length, ending in an extremely sharp point that could easily be driven into a person's heart. 

Iris said nothing. Clad in a simple acolyte's robe, she kept her head bowed. What black hair was not braided back fell around her face in curtains. 

“You know what to do.” As she paced the small room, her gauzy white robe swept along with her. Cutouts of butterflies adorn the hem of the robe, which she wore over a beautiful white dress with a silver brocade of swirls. Her sleeves were off-shoulder, ending in delicate gloves that covered her fingers. And yet, despite her delicate garb, her expression was anything but delicate. 

“Yes, Caster.” Iris fingered the purple magatama she wore at her neck. 

“The Fey family shunned you because you were not strong enough to be a full-fledged magus. This is the perfect time for your – no, our – revenge. Maya Fey will fall, and this time, the Grail will be ours.” A sinister grin crossed her features, and a flame erupted briefly from the sphere on her staff. Iris blinked and leaned away ever so slightly, but made no other movements. Caster, on the other hand, laughed – a tinkling but nasty cackle incongruous with her ethereal appearance. 

Meanwhile, the wooden panel separating the room from the rest of the house was ajar all this time, and neither woman seemed to have paid it any attention. A small face peered through it, watching Caster and Iris. The little girl covered her mouth with her hand as she observed them silently.

After a short while, Pearl Fey left them to their own devices, as quietly as she came.


	4. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya's and Kay's secrets are (partly) out, two more Servants begin prowling the city, and Badd's acolyte may or may not hit on Dahlia/Caster in a future chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the succeeding ones are self-beta'd.
> 
> Well now, it has been a while since the last chapter. I already had this part typed up on my laptop but...yeah.

There was no one else in the corridor with the two teenage Masters as they made their silent standoff. Each was unsure of what to do with the other. Up until now, they had never seen each other as a threat, or a danger, or even a petty high school rival. Neither of them had attempted to take the other out, as far as each of them knew. And yet...if they made their moves now, it could mean one less opponent to face in the future. It would be strategic, and the empty corridor was a welcome coincidence, another advantage. No innocent people would get hurt.

 

_And yet..._

 

The girl who called herself Ayam raised a hand – only to let it fall limp at her side with a sigh. Kay had spaced her feet apart into a fighting stance and balled her hands into fists, but her posture relaxed when it became clear that Ayam was not going to attack. At least, for now.

 

“I can't,” Ayam whispered, tracing her Command Seals, staring at them as if they had an answer.

 

“Well...I can't either,” Kay answered quietly, placing her hands behind her back.

 

“I was new to this school and you showed me around and became friends with me. I guess...I sort of owe you one.”

 

“You paid me back when you invited me to watch Steel Samurai with you.”

 

Ayam shook her head, glancing up and meeting Kay's eyes. “No, that's for inviting me to marathon the Jammin' Ninja! Which means I'm still indebted to you!”

 

“Wait,” Kay folded her arms across her chest. “Actually, I never said you had to pay me for showing you around. You don't owe me anything. But...I don't want to fight you. I really don't. I think we can agree on that. Besides...someone who really appreciates the Steel Samurai can't be all bad.”

 

Ayam was silent at first, then her mouth slowly formed a weak smile. “Does this mean the marathon's still on?”

 

“Yeah. In fact, maybe we should have it soon, before all the Servants have been summoned.” Kay's gaze held an element of grim inevitability. They could promise to remain friends and not fight each other for now, but there was always the possibility that they would have to face each other at the very end.

 

“And when that happens...we won't fight, right?”

 

“No.”

 

“So, truce?” Ayam extended her hand, and Kay took it. They shook on it, although the reality of their situation loomed over them like the shadow of a lurking monster. Each girl wondered, in the back of her mind, whether she was doing the right thing. They decided not to say anything more than what had to be said.

 

“Truce. Then...good luck.”

 

“You too.”

 

* * *

 

“Assassin. Caster. Berserker. Rider. Archer. Lancer. And...Saber.”

 

For each name Badd recited, he placed a corresponding card onto the table. The only other item on the table was a lit candelabra casting flickering shadows upon the figures drawn expertly on the cards. These figures were all different – a man in armor and raising a sword, a man with a feathered hat and a spear, a woman holding a book and raising a wand, among others.

 

The only other guest in the small chamber at the back of the church peered down at the cards, picking them up one by one and turning them over before replacing them. He stopped at the woman with the book and the wand, her robes swirling about her feet, her face enchantingly beautiful and illuminated by her sparkling wand.

 

“Caster's really pretty,” he pointed out casually, leaning back in his chair. He raised the card up and continued examining the depiction of the Servant with a crooked grin. “She can bewitch me any time...”

 

Badd slapped the other man's hand, making him yelp and drop the card back onto the table. Then he swept the cards into his hands.

 

“The Holy Grail War is not a dating game, son,” he drawled, pocketing the cards irritably. “Well...it's a game, but it's not just any game. You and I are to supervise it. Unfortunately.” Badd raised a hand to his forehead. It was hard to tell if he meant that supervising a seven-way battle was unfortunate in general, or that supervising it with Larry Butz was unfortunate.

 

“And...make sure no one dies?” Larry asked tentatively, putting up his hand like a timid student.

 

“...Actually, death is an inevitability,” said Badd brusquely. Larry flinched as if _he_ were the one on the chopping block. “We make sure...no innocent people get tangled up in the war and die.”

 

“That sounds hard.”

 

“It is.”

 

* * *

 

The man walking the streets of Los Angeles that night resembled a wolf, not just in the way his light hair was styled, how he bared his teeth in a predatory grin, and how he favored a furry boa draped about his neck, but also in how he prowled the city and how he watched every back alley and corner he came across. He carried himself with arrogant confidence, boots striking the pavement as he marched onward.

 

Behind him was his green-clad shadow, a hooded man who stopped in front of a coffee shop to scan its menu – somehow, behind the mask of red lights obscuring half of his face. He made a gesture as if to draw an arrow from the large white and silver quiver at his back, and let out a short laugh.

 

“Ha...! They claim to be 'masters of coffee', yet they insist on masking the bitter aroma that defines real coffee.”

 

Shi-Long Lang stopped to roll his eyes before moving on. The second man followed soon after, with deliberate steps. With his leather and metal armor, verdant cloak, thick archery gloves, odd mask and earth-colored boots, as well as the silver bow strapped to his belt, he was quite the sight to behold. And yet, other people walked on by without paying him any attention.

 

“You're a strange spirit, Archer,” Lang remarked. “I know all Servants are equipped with knowledge of the modern world, but this...”

 

“Not all Servants are part of real history,” Archer pointed out, quickening his pace so he was side by side with his companion and dropping his voice. “Some Servants...are part of recent history. I still remember my favorite coffee blends well.”

 

“I don't care if you run on coffee instead of mana, but if you can win this war, you have my utmost gratitude.”

 

Suddenly, as they were walking beside a large apartment building, something – or rather, someone – dropped in front of them from the nearest, lowest fire escape with an unceremonious thump and an equally unceremonious yelp. The person hurriedly picking himself up off the ground was likewise wearing green, but his outfit was more garish and ornamented than Archer's, adorned with epaulets and tassels. Recognition dawned in the third man's eyes as he focused on Archer, and then on Lang, and back again. In an instant, Archer's bow was out and an arrow poised and ready, aimed straight between the target's pleading eyes.

 

“P-P-Please d-don't hurt meeeeeee!” the man cried out shrilly, backing away until he tripped over an empty trash can.

 

Archer's lips parted in surprise, but he still kept his bow raised. Lang raised his eyebrows at the rather pathetic sight before throwing back his head and laughing raucously.

 

“We went hunting for dogs and found this poor lost puppy! And you won't believe this, but he's actually a Master too!”

 

Archer's mouth was now a pondering frown as he maintained his position. “Then that means...”

 

“He is _not_ a puppy!” A loud female voice cut in. She materialized out of thin air, dressed in a red aviator bodysuit, complete with goggles and high-heeled boots. In one gloved hand was a scarlet whip, and she cracked it sharply in front of Archer, who promptly lowered his bow and stepped back. Lang did not move from where he was, but slid his hand into his pocket as if reaching for something.

 

“When meeting a woman for the first time, always ask for her name and occupation,” Archer intoned, as if she had not warned him away. “But in this case, I think her occupation is, 'Servant', which means her name is out of the question.”

 

She placed herself in front of the man who was now standing up again. A breeze lifted her long brown hair as she braced her free hand on her hip.

 

“That's right,” the Servant confirmed. “I'm Servant Rider, and this is my Master.”

 

Lang laughed again, probably sensing that as long as they didn't do anything to Rider's Master, she wouldn't attack them and was more interested in keeping him safe.

 

“Lang Zi says, 'A wolf will not back down from whatever makes a cub flee.'”

 

“Your Master has yet to master the art of being a master,” Archer added, unfazed by Rider's scowl, or her whip. He too seemed confident that there would be no injury or combat for now, and had put his weapons away. His only weapon now was a derisive smirk on his face.

 

“Come back when you've grown out of your puppy ways, little Master!” Lang taunted. “You're not worthy of a battle with the House of Lang!” He pulled his hand out from his pocket and pulled out a small, empty scroll. With a flourish, he waved his other hand over it, and the scroll erupted into a cloud of thick gray smoke imbued with sparks of energy. It surrounded him and Archer, and as the smoke dissipated, it was gone, leaving only a burnt smell as a reminder of the two men.

 

Rider turned to look over her Master, who hung his head in shame.

 

“I'm sorry, Dessie,” he moaned. “I guess our plan didn't work...”

 

“It's okay, Ronnie!” She gave him an optimistic smile. “We'll get them next time, you'll see!” With another crack of her whip, a large black motorcycle appeared. Rider took her Master's hand and they hopped onto the seat of the bike.

 

“The night is young!” she declared, as she revved up her ride, and they took off down the road at a breakneck speed that made Ron DeLite scream all the more as he hung on tightly.

 


End file.
